


You Made Us Infinite

by PinkiePyrope1579



Category: Homestuck
Genre: A1/A2 Swap, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beforus Ancestors, Canon-Typical Profanity, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, No seriously help me I suck at tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Kankri Vantas, POV Karkat Vantas, Pale Crushes, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkiePyrope1579/pseuds/PinkiePyrope1579
Summary: Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong with SBURB. (Updates every 7-12 days.)





	1. A2: Before the End and After the Beginning

> Begin. 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you get the feeling that something's wrong with your computer. Of course, this isn't an unusual phenomenon, what with your quite frankly abysmal programming skills, but this time, you're pretty sure it's not your fault. Of course, had SGRUB been working normally, a couple hours from now you would have run a program that would have blown up your computer and placed a curse on you and everyone you've ever known. As much as you would have liked to deny it, that would have been your fault. 

But you, of course, have no idea that any of that stuff would have happened, and even if you did, you wouldn't give a shit. Right now, the loading screen for the game Sollux sent you is going extremely slow, and while you're not sure whether that's supposed to be happening, you're not exactly happy with that. After you get the game to work, you and him are going to have a chat about that. Oh, speak of the devil. He's contacting you right now.

twinArmageddons [TA]  began trolling  carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

TA: kk, what diid you do? 

CG: YOU MEAN TO THE GAME? 

TA: no, to your haiircut. of cour2e ii'm talkiing about the game. 2omethiing'2 wrong wiith iit. 

CG: NO, BESIDES WATCHING THIS GODDAMN LOADING SCREEN, WHICH IS TAKING FOR-FUCKING-EVER, BY THE WAY. WHY DO YOU PRESUME *I* DID SOMETHING TO IT? 

TA: two rea2ons. a) you're one of the only people ii've 2ent iit to, and b) iif anybody wa2 gonna fuck thii2 up, iit wa2 goiing to be you.

CG: OH, THAT'S NICE. SO YOU'RE TRYING TO PSYCHE ME OUT AND INSULT ME? REAL FUCKING CLASSY, CAPTOR. HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO COME UP WITH THIS ONE? 

TA: ii'm dead 2eriiou2. check the 2ource code, pre2umiing you're not the one maniipulating iit. oh, wait, ii forgot, you don't have near enough 2kiill to do anythiing liike thii2 anyway. ju2t 2ee what'2 going on, iif you can even do that wiithout cra2hiing your computer. 

CG: SCREW YOU AND YOUR '2OURCE CODE'. 

Despite that sentiment, you decide to go check the source code anyway. The SGRUB screen is frozen anyway, so it isn't like you have anything better to do. You scroll through it, and everything seems to check out. It's esoteric, but what code that asshole sends you isn't? You're debating between sarcastic barbs to send to Sollux when, around four-fifths of the way through, something that you've never seen before catches your eye. Bits and pieces of the code are being replaced with odd red symbols, to the point where, by the end, entire lines are made up of them. You copy and search a line, but all that comes up are articles about some defunct East Alternian language that certainly doesn't belong in a game code. You take a screenshot and send it to Sollux, along with this message: 

CG: IS THIS SOME KIND OF BIZARRE IN-JOKE I DON'T GET? 

TA: oh god, iit'2 that bad already? 

TA: kk, you have to beliieve me, ii have no iidea what'2 goiing on here. 

CG: YEAH, RIGHT. SURE YOU DON'T. 

He says something else, but you're distracted by a noise coming from your computer. You split your screen and pull up the game. The loading screen is gone, and now, there's pure black with white text. 

[Completing loading process...establishing server connection...rerouting server connection...] 

Rerouting? That doesn't sound right. You send a quick message to Terezi, then turn back to the screen. A few more of the strange glyphs have appeared on the screen, only a single line this time:  私たちは皆、私たちに値するものを手に入れます。

After that, your entire computer screen goes blank white. You blink a couple of times, then turn the monitor on and off again. That doesn't work. You pound on the screen, as if your computer is an old television set that just needs a bit of force to work again. Predictably, that also doesn't work. Standing up, you make to walk around your desk and see if something's wrong with the way it's plugged in. Your head is pounding, and as you stand up, you get rather disoriented. Did that light do something to your eyes? You squint and walk around behind your computer desk. You kneel down; everything looks normal. It must have been that program. Dammit, Sollux. 

Your headache is getting worse than ever. The edge of your vision is cloudy. You swear you feel some sort of invisible force pulling you away from your computer. You brush it off as your imagination, but it gets stronger, and you're moving against your will. Terrified, you grip the leg of your desk, but you're still yanked backwards onto your feet, and you probably weren't fast enough even before the headache and heavy eyelids to run against it. What the hell's going on? Everything feels odd... it's not that bad, actually. Maybe you'll just rest your eyes here for a bit... 

Terezi eventually responds to your message, and on the chat you abandoned, Sollux is freaking out, but you aren't there to respond. By the time anyone would see those messages, the troll who was supposed to receive them was long gone. So, too, were those who sent them. In fact, it would be six hours and twelve minutes after carcinoGeneticist went offline before someone saw those messages. When that happened, this would be their response: 

carcinoGeneticist [CG]  has changed his trolltag. 

condescendinglyGarrulous [CG]  is online. 


	2. A1: Twofaced

> Karkat: Try to gather your bearings. 

When you wake up, all you see is a plethora of dark shadows surrounding you. As you stir, cursing under your breath (read: at what most trolls would call an 'indoor voice'), your vision clears, and you see that you're lying in between two trees in the middle of a forest. It's dark, but you can make out a prone figure lying nearby. As you get closer, details come to light: an olive green trench coat with a tail sewn onto it, rounded horns with pointy tips, and short hair concealed by a blue hat. "...Nepeta?" 

You turn the figure over towards you, and sure enough, it's her. You crouch and attempt to shake her awake, then scramble back as you narrowly avoid a clawing to the face. She's on her feet far quicker than you were, wildly looking around until she meets your gaze. "Karcat? Is that you?" 

"Yeah, wh--" 

Before you can finish, the girl pounces, tackling you into a hug. "Where have you been? The others and I have been looking all over fur you!" 

"Wait, really?" You remember your screen whiting out, but not much after that. You never did respond to Sollux, did you? And Terezi wouldn't have gotten a response, either. Great. Leave it to whoever/whatever kidnapped you from your own home to make you feel like an asshole about it. Instead of trying to explain to Nepeta, you try to change the subject. "Hey, do you have any idea where we are?" 

"No...why would I know?" 

"I mean, you're the one who lives in the fucking cave. If anyone was going to have some sort of special expertise on being in the middle of nowhere, it would be you." 

"Hey!" She crosses her arms and looks up at you, raising an eyebrow. 

Before she says anything else, you see a light coming from behind a thick line of trees and brush. A voice rings through the cool night air, "Is someone there?" 

The voice is female, high-pitched with a distinct tone that you can't quite place. Nepeta looks about to respond, but you stand and put an arm out in front of her. For all you know, you two could have been kidnapped by a load of subjugglators and lost along the way. It's the law of Alternian social interaction: immediately presume that everyone you meet is eventually going to try to kill you. Considering your blood color and the nature of your 'friends', that law has served you well over the years. 

Whoever it is speaks again. "I know you're out here! I could hear you! I can still hear you, you know. You're not exactly subtle." 

Neither of you move a muscle. You can almost feel her invisible gaze sweep over you and brace yourself for whatever will happen if she catches you. You knew you were probably going to die by some unnatural cause eventually, but did it really have to be on your wriggling day? 

After what feels like hours, she finally speaks again. "Perhaps not?" She stretches out the first part of 'perhaps', almost as if she was intending to make some sort of cat pun out of it. It immediately makes you think of Nepeta, and you hazard a glance over at her. She looks just as baffled as you do. "Maybe just a stray lusus. Ah, well. I've had my hunt for tonight." 

You hear footsteps, and the light goes out. Sighing with relief, you turn your back to the brush, pulling out your sickles just in case someone tries anything. You walk away from where you heard the voice and gesture towards Nepeta to follow you, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention to you. Instead, her eyes are fixated behind you, and her claws are bared. Realizing she could be seeing a potential assailant, you turn around just as she scampers up a tree. 

The next thing you register is being disarmed and pinned to a tree, kicking and thrashing like your life depends on it, which it likely does. Your assailant is staring you right in the face with olive green eyes and a grin that would give the Cheshire Cat a run for his money. She speaks, and it's the same voice you heard dismiss you earlier. "Gotcha." In one gloved hand, she holds one of your sickles, which she examines for a moment before tossing it behind her, where it embeds itself in the very tree Nepeta had climbed earlier. The other one is about three feet away, lying on the ground. 

Up until this point, you've been struggling and hurling obscenities at her, but once you get a good look at her, you stop in your tracks. The first things you notice are immediately familiar: rounded horns with pointy tips, an open, olive-colored, one button jacket, and messy hair pulled up into a ponytail and topped off with an olive blue newsboy cap. 

It was Nepeta, but Nepeta if she was five sweeps older and perhaps possessed by Vriska. She looks you over and seems to register the same thing, her eyes widening as she releases you. You land on the ground with a thud and immediately make a break for your sickles. The older Nepeta seems to be deep in thought, though her eyes still shine with mischief. "So he really was telling the truth...either that, or he is WAY older than he looks!" She chuckles and turns to look at you. "You ok? Sorry about the poor reception; I'm not really used to visitors around here." 

"Oh, really," you deadpan as you retrieve the sickle she threw into the tree. from the tree. It's an easy decision to not reveal that that your Nepeta is up there, seeing as you still don't trust this alternate. "Holy shit, I wouldn't have guessed! Your hospitality was just so fucking impeccable!" 

"And you're just as abrasive as efur, I see." She looks around. "Is anyone else here? I could've sworn I heard two."

Sneaking a glance up at the tree, you see the younger Leijon poised to pounce. "No, just me." 

She looks you over again, trying to determine if you're telling the truth. "That's bull, and you know it." She pauses for a moment, then shrugs. "Eh, what do I care. I've got all I need, really, and if your little furiend is who I think she is, she's going to be showing herself purretty soon." She looks up at the tree. "Am I right, kitten? Yes, I know you're up there. I have eyes." 

Warily, your Nepeta climbs down from the tree, glaring at her counterpart. It's a bizarre sight; side by side, they really are almost exactly alike, besides the differences in age and clothing. The older one crouches down so she's at eye level with the other. "Boy, this wasn't just any fluke, was it? How old are you? Four, five sweeps?" 

"Six." The younger Nepeta still has her claws out of her gloves. and you still have your sickles drawn. You're both tense, as if the woman in front of you is going to strike at any moment. 

"Six, huh? Jeez, was I really this short? How did anyone take me seriously way back when?" 

She seems to be more keen on reminiscing on days past than providing any half-decent answers, and finally, you can't help but interject. "Hey, excuse me for interrupting, but I've got a couple of questions that, I dunno, haven't really been answered as of late. Namely, who the hell are you, where are we, and what are we doing here? Kind of important to know, don't you think?" 

"Those are some good questions! Unfortunately, I myself can only answer one of them." She pulled a nonexistent skirt out and bent her knees into a mock curtsy. "They call me a Merchant, but anyone who _really_ knows me'll call me Twofaced." She tipped her indigo newsboy cap, which had a cat face sewn onto it, towards you with one hand. "And who would know me better than me and my matespurrit?" She went back to standing position. "Like the curtsy? I've been practicing in case I efur meet Her Radiance, either at her court or for contempt of court." 

Nepeta, however, seems to be fixated on one detail. "...Matespurrit?" 

"Well, yeah. It may be a bit of wishful thinking to call it that at this point, but if it's not there yet, it's close." 

Just then, a second familiar yet unplaceable voice calls out from behind the brush. "Hey, what the fuck's taking you so long?" It was a male, with an equal amount of worry and annoyance in his voice. "You're not in trouble, are you? God knows I can't do shit about it." 

'Merchant Twofaced' walked over to the thick line of trees and brush and leaned on a tree. "All's good. Just dealing with some company, is all." 

"Son of a- how many are there?" You see the glint of metal from behind the brush, and movement that was obviously the troll behind the voice pulling out a weapon of some sort. 

"Not that kind of company. You've been pretty paranoid these last couple days, haven'tcha? Nah, they're... well, I think it would be best of you saw 'em yourself. It's a bit difficult to explain." 

He sighs. "If I come into that clearing and you're fucking bleeding to death or something, I swear..."

A sickle blade sticks through the brush and cuts through, creating a hole big enough for someone to walk through. You take an involuntary step back. There is no way that's who you think it is. This has to be some sort of trick or something. You actually aren't about to find... 

Someone walks through the brush. He has the same horns, the same scowl, the same weapon, the same almost everything. "Right, so who is this mystery troll that I sho-" His voice, which has faded into shock, even sounds the same when you think about it. There's no denying anything about this now, because the troll that has just walked into the clearing is you.


	3. A2: Revival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give thanks to my dear friend Sophie for proofreading this piece for me and provide. She's not exactly a Homestuck nerd like I am, but she's one great copyeditor. Props to you ^.^

> Be  condescendinglyGarrulous 

You decide to let the narrative transfer to Mr. condescendinglyGarrulous. You are now Kankri Vantas. 

The first thing you feel as you come to a state that could loosely be regarded as consciousness is a sense of vertigo like you have never felt before. You are lying... somewhere, too dizzy and too tired to even open your eyes. You can only think of one moment like this in your entire life, and that was the moment after the Scratch, the moment that you woke up in the dream bubbles, the moment that you realized you had died. 

One way or another, it isn't an experience you'd personally recommend to anyone. 

With some difficulty, you get up and examine the room you're currently in. It's a respiteblock, but it's not yours, nor is it that of anyone you remember. It's dark, with a few windows showing that it is likely around midnight outside. In front of a cabinet by the door, there is for some reason a rather large hole in the floor. The only color on the walls are some posters for movies you don't recognize with titles longer than some of your conversations. It can only mean two things: either someone else had entered the dream bubbles, or you are... 

No. There is no way. It's impossible. Beforus was destroyed, and it isn't like there are any Alternians in the bubbles. This had to just be a memory that you haven't seen. You look over to the desk on the right wall; the computer sitting on it is on and pulled up to Pesterchum. If you're going to find any answers, you figure, you'll likely find them there. Walking over, you find yourself already logged in to Trollian, which is quite odd, as this clearly isn't your memory. It's pulled up to a memo that you've never seen before, simply titled 'A2', and eleven people are on it, accounting for all of your comrades save for one, and who knows where _she_ is. Your hand hovers over the keyboard, about to write a message, when one ascendedGuidance responded to the memo. 

AG: Hello, everyone! 

You haven't seen that tag in ages, but of course you remember Aranea. She's probably one of the most erudite in your small group of friends, but for some reason, she avoided you like the plague whenever you would try to talk to her about anything that really mattered, like casteism in Beforan society, or the blatant ableism of most highbloods, or the significantly altered role of lusii after Her Radiance took the throne, because really, when one looked deep down at it, there were quite a few fundamental fl- oh, there's another message. 

AG: I'm sure the 8 of you not involved in the planning of our little escape must 8e quite confused right now, but please refrain from trying to contact each other directly. It will only result in more confusion. 

AG: As you might have noticed, you are pro8a8ly not in a place that seems familiar to you. This is 8ecause you aren't in a dream 8u88le anymore. This is the planet we cre8ed by means of the Scratch, and it is the planet that we have now reclaimed.

That can't be right. You blink a couple of times, reading it over again to make sure that you didn't miss anything. You're at a loss for words, a rarity for someone like you. You start to type a response, but some of your more concise friends beat you to the punch. 

GC: h3y, th1s 1s som3 sort of jok3, r1ght? 1t's pr3tty good! whos3 m3mor13s 4r3 th3s3, 4nyw4y? 

AG: I assure you, this is no joke. The world you're looking at right now is not a projection, as the worlds we've 8een confined to for eons are, 8ut a new world, our world. 

GA: I must admit, I'm still mo+re inclined to+ side with Latula. Ho+w co+uld yo+u just expect us to+ believe so+mething this majo+r? 

AG: Of course I understand your initial hesit8ion. I'm sure that I would be skeptical as well if I weren't in the know. However, take a look outside your windows for evidence, or, depending on your loc8ion, just take a look outside. I'll w8. 

You step away and open the nearest window, letting the cool evening air inside. You look out on a rather disorganized residential area, with some identical-looking houses scattered in your general area. There are a few trolls outside, but you can't make out more than their broadest features. Everything seems normal until you happen to glance upward and catch a glimpse of the moon -or, rather, _moons._ Two of them to be exact, one pink and one bright green, the latter of which certainly was never a feature of Beforus. You hasten back to your computer, where multiple others have affirmed the same thing. After you add one final confirmation of the two moons, Aranea finally gets back to you all. 

AG: Now have you ascertained that I'm telling the truth?

GA: Fine. Presume fo+r a seco+nd that I am co+mpletely o+n bo+ard with the co+ncept o+f having been transpo+rted to+ a universe Echinda herself claimed I wo+uld never see. Ho+w? Wo+uldn't we have to+ be alive fo+r that to+ wo+rk?

AG: To 8e honest, I have no idea. I was a8le to gather the inform8ion to tell Damara how to manipul8 the timeline, 8ut I wasn't controlling the act itself. 

AC: (=^•I•^=) BUT I THOUGHT YOU WERE TELLING US EVERYTHING... I'M STILL PURRETTY CONFUSED! 

AG: Well, if you still find yourself with more questions, perhaps you ought to consult your ex-m8sprit. Kurloz was quite involved in the planning as well as Damara and I. 

Something about this still rubs you the wrong way, and finally, you manage to express your thoughts in the chat: 

CG: 9n that su6ject, I find it highly pr96lematic h9w little representati9n y9u had when y9u made the decisi9n t9 leave the dream 6u66les. N9t 9nly did y9u have n9 mid6l99d 9r seadweller representati9n, when c9nsidering the p9pulati9n, three 9ut 9f twelve, 9r c9nsidering duplicates, c9untless millions, is not a su6stantial amount. Even 9n 6ef9rus, there were attempts t9 rectify this wi- 

GA: Thank yo+u, Kankri, I think that will be eno+ugh. No+t to+ say I do+n't abso+lutely co+ncur, o+f co+urse. 

CA: yeah, and out of all of us, wvhy those freaks? howv wvould you evwen talk to them, anywvay? 

AA: 話しかけないで。ちょうど私と一緒に寝る。 

CA: see? she evwen types wvith that stupid accent! can't understand a wvord she's saying. 

AA: あなたは汚れた偽善者です。 

AG: That will 8e quite enough! 

AG: Can't you see that you've been done a favor?! You're out of that dreadful limbo, and yet all you can do is question my methods of doing so. Quite frankly, I find it a8surd! Now if you'll excuse me, I have quite a 8it of important work to 8e doing, so if you will not terribly mind, I will 8e 8idding you farewell! 

ascendingGuidance [AG]  closed memo. 

...Well, that left you with more questions than answers. You turn off the computer monitor, shaking your head as you try to absorb all of the information that was just unceremoniously thrown at you. Then, a rather unsettling thought hits you: _If this is Alternia, then where is your ancestor?_

You feel like a compete idiot. How did nobody bring that up before? You remember Porrim telling you that one of the side-effects of the Scratch is that your alternate self would live a new life, except with the roles of your ancestor and yourself reversed. At least one of them must still be alive, you figure, and though you dislike your alternate's tactics, it'd certainly be better than nothing.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on what you presume is the front door downstairs. You start, realizing that you never left the room you woke up in. You turn to the door, and it's open. Hesitantly, you walk downstairs, eyes flickering from side to side looking for anyone that might had left their presence unsaid until now. You approach the front door as the knocking starts again, more impatiently this time. 

You open the door, and there are three highbloods standing there, a little older than you. An irisblooded boy is flanked by two girls, one a seadweller. "Hello, is this the Vantas household? We're here for-" He gets a look at you, and the previously friendly face dissolves into a twisted grin. "Well, isn't this just perfect?" Without warning, he takes out a sharpened sickle and swings.


	4. A2: The Whites of Their Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is how it's basically going to work from here on out: every two chapters, there'll be a switch in POV from A1 to A2 or vice versa. Constructive feedback will be appreciated ^.^

You step back with a startled yell, so quickly that you lose your balance and fall onto the ground. Before you have the opportunity to pull yourself together, the two girls are standing over you, the seadweller with a crossbow in her hand and the other, who you now see has an orchid-colored symbol, with a spiked mace. The seadweller looks a little concerned as she looks you over, and her scrutiny finally paused on your face. "What's wrong with his eyes? Is it just me, or do they look...blank?" You hadn't felt any worse for wear, but you consider that perhaps you should have looked yourself over before leaving the room. As it is, you're uncertain what she's talking about. 

"Pfff, who cares?" The orchidblood's voice is high-pitched and raspy, sounding on the verge of laughter. She has a far more malicious aura to her, almost psychotic. No, scratch that, it _is_ psychotic. By this point, that's not presumptuous; it's simply fact. "Maybe it's a mutant thing or whatever. You care too much about the details, Lilith! It's not like he's going to survive after tonight, anyway."

At this point, you think it would be unwise not to at least try to make a case for yourself, so you attempt to stammer out something. "Er, I just thought you ought to know that I'm not the person that usually lives here. I'm actually here because, well... It's a long story, to be sure, but the point is that you’ve got the wrong troll!" 

"Whaddaya mean, _freak?_ " You want to chide the orchidblood for using such a blatant trigger word, but you get the feeling that now isn't the time. "You act like the reason isn't all over your sleeve! What, are you blind or just stupid!" 

"Hmm..." Lilith looks genuinely confused. "He looks like what was described, right, Ataxis? About our age, short, nubby horns, bright red blood...hmm. Well, can we really be sure about the blood?" 

"Hehe, only one way to find out!" Ataxis, unable to contain herself any longer, breaks out into laughter as she holds her club above her head. Just as she looks like she's about to bring it down, there's an interruption from the doorway. 

"Ahem..." The boy, who'd been leaning against the doorway watching things unfold, finally steps into your line of sight, grabbing hold of Ataxis's arm. "We want him _alive,_ remember? Alive, and Boss specifically said no crippling him either. I'm looking at you, Lil." 

"Hey, that was an accident!" Lilith crossed her arms, looking defensive. "Not like he was using that leg, anyway..." 

"That's not what I... You know what? Forget it. What's done is done. Just let things go right this one goddamn time, ok? No killing, no maiming, end of story."

"Fine, fine. Whatever." Ataxis rolls her eyes. For a moment, her vicious smile fades, then it comes back wider than ever. "But that doesn't mean we can't at least have a little fun with him, right?" 

"Fair enough..." He looks far more considering of this option than you'd like him to be. "I don't suppose it does. Actually, you're right. It might be entertaining to see him suffer a little." 

You try to say something, to scream, to do anything, but all that come out are strangled gasps. This is it; you're going to die here. Just because you've done it before doesn't make it any less terrifying a thought. They're looming over you, and it might just be your imagination, but they look like they're changing, shifting into large, shadowy forms. You finally cry out, "Get away from me!", but the voice doesn't sound quite like yours. Reality is blurring, your vision's out of focus, you feel rather detached from your surroundings, which seem to be getting more and more unlike before... 

Then, one of them grabs your shoulder, and the sound of something snapping rings through the air. 

You have no idea what happens next. You're vaguely aware of being in pain, but it barely seems important. Your life is flashing before your eyes, except you don't recognize any of the events. There are colors: red and green and yellow and blue and purple and grey mixing together to create something indescribable. Underneath it all is a pulsing rage that fills your veins with a concentrated desire for wrath. It isn't right, it isn't fair, but you aren't sure what 'it' is, only that it makes your blood boil with indignation. You're running...no, someone's carrying you away...no, you're sailing...no, you've collapsed. Someone's saying something... are you ok? No...everything hurts...they're talking again, trying to help, nononononoSTOP! 

"Aagh!" You're snapped back to reality by some of the worst agony that you've ever felt in your life. There's someone standing in front of you, a cerulean blooded boy. He looks quite nervous, standing a few steps back like he's afraid of something, afraid of you, you realize. You're not in the unfamiliar hive anymore; you're outside, under the two moons of this strange, awful planet. You're behind a hive, probably one of the ones you saw outside your window earlier. 

It takes you a moment to recognize that the cerulean blood had spoken. "Hey... Are you ok? You looked pretty out of it earlier." 

You try to move your arm, but it's stiff from the shoulder down. "I'm doing... fine enough. Where are we?" 

The boy simply shrugs. He's probably a little short of six sweeps old, with big eyes that stare out at you tentatively through thick-rimmed glasses. "Hell if I know. I've just been sort of in the area for a couple of perigees now, and...is your arm broken?"

You look down at your non-functional arm. It is at an to be at an odd angle, and that would explain why you can't move it. "It would seem to be so. I'm really not sure how, but-" It hits you right then: your assailants back at the hive. What happened to them? "Listen, do you know how far I ran before I got to you? I'm fairly certain I'm being chased by the trolls who broke my arm."

"I don't think it was very far. You didn't look that tired when you got to me. Why, are they clo-" 

"RIGHT, YA' FREAK OF NATURE, GET OUT HERE WHILE I CAN SEE YOU!" Your companion is interrupted by the somehow even more abrasive voice of Ataxis. 

"I told you, that isn't going to work! I'm pissed off too, you know I am, but this isn't how we're going to solve anything around here." Peering around the corner of the wall, you see the boy trailing behind Ataxis, with Lilith clinging to his arm. However, possibly the most shocking thing about it all was the wound that the boy had suffered: a thin scratch that started at his collarbone and tore through his shirt until it ended a little below his left ribcage. 

"I don't care! He needs to pay! You're the one he nearly killed, Ontiln; you should agree with me more than anyone!" 

"I am trying to keep a level head, dammit. We just need to let Boss know what happened, then get outta here." Ontiln pulls out an old-fashioned communication device, and starts to type in a number. "And he didn't nearly kill me. I'm fine." 

There's a clicking sound that indicated the call had connected as Ontiln put it on speakerphone. But instead of someone speaking on the other end, there's an odd series of tapping sounds: ".-- . .-.. .-.. ..--.." 

"Yeah, yeah, hi to you too." He sighs, as if someone had spoken on the other end and had annoyed him quite a bit. "You're not gonna want to hear this." 

"-.. .. -.. / .... . / . ... -.-. .- .--. . ..--.." 

"Mmhmm. Everything was going great until the little psycho flipped out on us. Nearly cut open my chest, broke my weapons, and managed to do all of that with a broken arm." He neglects to mention that it was his group that broke your arm in the first place. 

"... --- / .-.. . - / -- . / --. . - / - .... .. ... / ... - .-. .- .. --. .... - .-.-.- / .. ...- . / --. .. ...- . -. / - .... . / - .... .-. . . / --- ..-. / -.-- --- ..- / --- .-. -.. . .-. ... / - --- / -.-. .- .--. - ..- .-. . / - .... .-. . . / - .-. --- .-.. .-.. ... --..-- / --- -. . / .- - / .- / - .. -- . .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / .... .- ...- . / ... --- / ..-. .- .-. / -- .- -. .- --. . -.. / - --- / -.-. .- - -.-. .... / --- -. . / --- ..- - / --- ..-. / - .... --- ... . / - .... .-. . . .-.-.- / .. -- / -. --- - / .-.. .. -.- .. -. --. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / --- -.. -.. ... --..-- / .--. . .-. ... --- -. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- .-.-.-" 

"Gee, your concern for my well being is heartwarming. And last time was not our fault! How were we supposed to beat-" 

".. ...- . / .... . .- .-. -.. / . -. --- ..- --. .... .-.-.- / - .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / .-- --- --- -.. ... / - --- / - .... . / ... --- ..- - .... .-- . ... - --..-- / .- -. -.. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -. . -..- - / - .- .-. --. . - / .. ... / - .... . .-. . --..-- / .- -. / --- .-.. .. ...- . / -... .-.. --- --- -.. .-.-.- / ... .... . / .-.. .. ...- . ... / .. -. / .- / -.-. .- ...- . / ... .... . / .... .- ... / - ..- .-. -. . -.. / .. -. - --- / .- / .... .. ...- . --..-- / .- -. -.. / ... .... . / .. ... / -.-. --- -- .--. .-.. . - . .-.. -.-- / -.. . .- ..-. .-.-.- / .- -. / . .- ... -.-- / - .- .-. --. . - --..-- / .. / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. / - .... .. -. -.- .-.-.-" 

"Got it. Olive blood, cave girl, unfit because she’s deaf. Anything else?" Your eyes widen as you realize he's talking about Meulin. Who else would fit that exact description? And how does whoever on the other end know who you all are? 

".. / .-- .- -. - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- -- .--. .-.. . - . .-.. -.-- / ..- -. .... .- .-. -- . -.. .-.-.- / --- .... --..-- / .- -. -.. / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. / .. / -- . -. - .. --- -. / - .... .- - / .. / .-- .- -. - / .... . .-. / - --- / -... . / -.-. .- .--. - ..- .-. . -.. ..--.. / .. -- / -. --- - / ... ..- .-. . / .. / .-- .- ... / --.- ..- .. - . / -.-. .-.. . .- .-. / --- -. / - .... .- - / -... . ..-. --- .-. . .-.-.-" 

"I get your point, boss. What about the other kid?" 

".-.. . .- ...- . / .... .. -- / -... . .-.-.- / .... . / .. ... / - --- --- / ... . .-.. ..-. -....- .- -... ... --- .-. -... . -.. / - --- / .--. --- ... . / .- / - .... .-. . .- - / - --- / ..- ... --..-- / - .-. ..- ... - / -- . .-.-.- / .. .-.. .-.. / -.. . .- .-.. / .-- .. - .... / .... .. -- / -- -.-- ... . .-.. ..-. / .- - / .- / .-.. .- - . .-. / -.. .- - . .-.-.- / -. --- .-- / --. --- / ..-. .. -. -.. / - .... . / --- .-.. .. ...- . / -... .-.. --- --- -.. --..-- / .- -. -.. / -.. --- / - .-. -.-- / -. --- - / - --- / -- .- -.- . / ..-. .- .. .-.. ..- .-. . ... / --- ..-. / -.-- --- ..- .-. ... . .-.. ...- . ... .-.-.-" After that, whoever was on the other end abruptly hangs up. 

"What an ass..." Ontiln puts the archaic device in his pocket. "You heard 'im, girls. We ought to get going. We'll get some supplies to treat my injury on the way there." 

They stalk off without another word, and finally, the cerulean blood speaks. "Did you really do all that?" 

"No! I don't know what they're on about!" You're probably being a bit too harsh, but what they described doesn't sound like you at all. Yet everything pointed to it being you... did it have to do with your blackout earlier? You're in too much pain to be thinking about this right now. You try to change the subject, asking him a question you probably should have asked a little while ago. "So, what's your name, anyway?" 

"Oh, yeah! I never did tell you that, did I? It's..." He looks contemplative, then rather nervous. "I... I have no idea. I don't remember anything past four perigees ago. I mean, I remember a lot of general stuff, but not much else. That's really bad, isn't it?" 

"No, no, no, it's fine!" So he's an amnesiac... you haven't really done much research on amnesia like you have other culling causes, probably because it's so rare. You make a mental note to do that later, presuming there is a later. 

"Oh! I got something!" He grins, revealing a prominent overbite. "I remember a name! Jhonen...something or other? Shit, that's all I remember. I think that's my name, though. Jhonen." He pauses for a moment. "So, where are we going?" 

You reply, "Honestly, I have no idea," and it's true. You're really not sure where to go after this. "I mean, I probably know as much as you do about this place." You slump down on the ground, gesturing around with your good arm. "I mean, it's a terribly long story, but... I'm not really from this place. It's all quite unfamiliar, and I just don't... I don't know what to say to any of it!" 

"Well, try me." 

"What?" 

"I dunno, just tell me about all of the stuff that led you here. Who knows? It might jog my memory a bit."

"Oh...alright." You're not used to people asking you about anything. Normally, you just sort of...talk. It's not a bad feeling, to be honest, knowing that the person you're talking to is actually going to care about what you're going to say.

“C’mon, we can walk and talk!” He puts an arm around your shoulder and leads you in a direction opposite from where your former assailants were headed. Making no attempt to conceal your discomfort, you push it away as gently as possible. 

“Please don’t touch me. Now, I suppose I ought to begin with a bit of background. This might sound rather far-fetched, but do bear with me. Long before Alternia’s formation, there was a planet known as Beforus…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter got way longer than it was supposed to be. I think I got all I wanted to say in it done relatively well, though. ^^;


	5. A1: Welcome to Beforus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Sorry this one came out a little late. Basically, holidays have been quite busy, so I haven't had time to write or to run this chapter by Sophie. Hopefully it came out ok, though! ^.^

>That seems like a good enough stopping point. Let's see how Karkat is doing, shall we? 

At first, it isn't the fact that your alternate exists in the first place that's surprising to you. That fact is still sinking in as you look him over. It’s the differences that have you staring more than anything. His symbol - your symbol - is on two white forearm guards, emblazoned on the wrists in bright red. In fact, while it’s relatively sparing, there’s more red on his outfit than what could have gotten you culled as soon as you stepped outside: on the soles of his shoes, the lining of his cloak, and he hasn’t even tried to hide his eyes, which at this age have turned bright red in color. He doesn't look happy to see you, and you’re sure you’re wearing a similar expression. He turns to Twofaced, asking, "This is a joke, right? You're kidding me, you have to be!" 

"Nah, even I wouldn't have thought this one up." Twofaced has an arm around Nepeta, and they're both fixated on your counterpart, Twofaced with a relaxed 'we're all friends here' smile and Nepeta with...some expression between shock and attraction. You roll your eyes at that as the former continues: "Look, there's a little me here, too! I wonder who else has one... Oh, if Peni or the Sonarist had one, that would be purriceless...!" 

By this point, neither you nor your counterpart are listening. He walks over to you and looks you over with a distrustful, borderline paranoid expression. Then, out of nowhere, he asks you a question: "Who is the current Empress?" 

"Her Imperious Condescension." What kind of question is that? Even assuming that you're in the future or the past or whatever, there's no way you're before or after the Condesce, especially considering that if you're in the future, the last heiress is/was Feferi, who would probably invite the empress for tea during the battle for ascension. 

Without missing a beat, he asks you another fairly obvious question. "Size of the army?" 

"Two hundred sixteen million." 

"How many moons do we have?"

Ok, you're done with this bullshit. "Two, and you know, I'm glad you asked! It's such an easy-to-miss detail! I mean, it's not like you can ask about any wriggler not born blind and deaf to just look up in the fucking sky and see how many moons we have rotating the planet. I mean, my thinkpan is completely blown from all of the deep conversation we're having here!" 

"Shut up. If there's anyone that I don't need to take shit from tonight, it's myself." 

Twofaced snorts from the sidelines. "Wow, all of that was completely-" 

"Right, from his perspective. You remember everything that I told you, right? The Peixes tyrant, the twin moons, the castism... Holy shit, they're real. They're all real, aren't they?" 

“What do you mean?” Nepeta looks and sounds about as confused as you feel. “That’s how it’s always been, right?” She’s hesitant, and you can see her eyes flicker towards the canopy. When she can’t see the sky, she adds, “Hold on a second,” and walks through the new hole in the brush. There’s silence for a second, then a small gasp before she returns, visibly shaken. “Karkat...the green moon... it's gone!" 

Wait, what? You stand there for a second, not sure you heard her correctly, then run out to the clearing, which turns out to be a rough pathway leading through the wood before you and around a torchlit cave behind you. Looking up, she's right; the pink moon is alone in the sky, without a trace that its partner was ever there in the first place. The counterparts have followed you out by now, but you're not paying attention, still fixated on the fact, that you know, THERE'S A GODDAMN MISSING MOON. Finally, you let your gaze rest back on the others. The other you simply shrugs, as if watching you, not having the green moon, or any of this, really, was all perfectly natural. He simply replies, "Welcome to Beforus." 

You're not quite sure how it progresses this way, but a few minutes later, you're sitting around a fire in the cave, which turns out to not be extremely different from Nepeta's cave in your...timeline? Dimension? Universe? You're still confused about all of that, but you've learned a bit more about wherever/whenever you are. The planet you're on is indeed still the troll homeworld, but named 'Beforus' instead of Alternia. Your counterpart's title is The Cardinal, and apparently he's part of some experiment by the Empress, who apparently isn't the Condesce either, instead being some lady named 'Her Graceful Radiance'. The green moon never existed in the first place, nor did the Alternian draft of the young. Even culling's been changed, instead being a system where highbloods coddle the weak and genetically unfit, which is quite frankly bull, in your opinion. 

When you express that particular thought, the Cardinal snorts, saying, "I know, right? It sounds so goddamn patronizing when you put it that way, but apparently this is some kind of childhood dream of Her Radiance or something. Personally, I could go on for hours, but that's just me. You know, someone who's actually been through that system and knows all of the ups and downs of it." He rolls his eyes at that, then returns to silence. He's actually pretty quiet throughout the whole exchange, and so are you. Most of what you learn comes from listening to Ms. Twofaced and Nepeta, who are actually managing to keep a half-decent conversation between them. You're so focused on that, in fact, that you hardly notice when your counterpart starts to act rather strangely. 

It starts out small: a change in his air to something more restless. By the time you pick up on it, his eyes are shifting, and he By the time Nepeta and the Merchant do, he looks to have a full-on migraine. His eyes are squeezed shut, one hand pressed to the temple opposite of the bandaged side of his head, and his breaths are quick and heavy. Twofaced looks him with an expression of concern. "Hey, are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He stands up, his scowl deepening. "Just...I'll be a second, alright?" He runs out of the cave, and you have a feeling that it's more than just the call of nature. It's this intuition that inspires you to get up about a minute later and follow him out of the cave, giving a similar sentiment to your two remaining companions. 

When you step outside, you're not sure where he went at first. Peering into the brush, you see a flash of white beyond where you'd first woken up, in a particularly thick area of trees. Clambering through and making your way over, you confirm that it's him, but he doesn't acknowledge your arrival. Instead, he's facing away and slightly to your left, hand on the hilt of a sheathed sickle. Looking that way, you see...absolutely nothing. You step right in front of him, but he's still staring above you, eyes somewhere between vacant and fearful. Looking closer, you note that his pupils have gone bright red, and combined with the skin that has nearly turned to the black of a full-fledged adult troll, he would almost look intimidating if not for his face, displaying so much shock it almost crosses the line into comedy. 

"Um, hello?" You try to wave your hand in front of his face, which doesn't work because a) you're not tall enough, and b) he doesn't respond and probably wouldn't have anyway. When you take a step forward, he finally moves, looking down, but not at you. He takes a few steps forward, then runs and kneels down, as if he's examining something. You can hear him muttering something under his breath, and your first thought is, _He's gone completely crazy, hasn't he?_ But as you step forward and listen to him, what you hear is...chilling, to say the least. 

"Hey...oh god, what has he done? Kanaya? Please tell me that's just grub sauce... please just be grub sauce please just be grub sauce please just be grub sauce... oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god..." 

He goes on like this for a while, and around the ninth 'oh god', you grab his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong with you?! Snap out of it!" 

Finally, you hear his breathing return to normal. He turns around and looks at you, and his eyes have returned to normal. Instead of the horror from before, now he just looks weary, burned out. His first words are not particularly comforting in terms of confirming sanity. "How are you still alive?" 

You pointedly decide to ignore that question, offering your own instead. "What was that?" 

He sighs, looking like he's had this conversation before. "You're going to think I'm insane." 

"I already do. You're not exactly going to be tainting a stellar reputation here. Just tell me what was with your little episode right there." 

"Fine. How do I put this...this never gets less complex, does it? Ever since I was younger, nine or ten, I think, it's been a couple of sweeps, I've been having these apocalyptic visions. And in the one that you...walked in on, I may or may not have seen a younger version of my culler die." 

"You know, even with your messed-up society, that's still probably the weirdest thing I've heard all day. Congratulations, you win first prize in the 'give Karkat Vantas the mindfuck of a lifetime competition'!" 

"I know. Believe me, I do. Mostly because... I'm pretty sure the experiences I've been living through are yours." 

"Wait, wait, hold up a second." You sit down across from him, because you have a feeling that this is going to be a long conversation. " _What?!_ " 

"Well, how did you think I knew everything I did about Alterina?" 

"Literally any other explaination than that one, because I would have to be a fucking psychic, which apparently I am according to you, to gather that from anything you have said up to this point." 

"Fair point. But I'm just putting this out there right now: your life is screwed up beyond belief. Seriously, is everyone you know a psychopathic asshole?" 

The answer is almost reflexive. "Yeah, did you even have to ask? But more importantly: what did you see right then? I mean, I never lived through that shit!"

"You didn't? I'll admit, this time it was fuzzier than usual, but I just assumed that I'd been seeing your timeline somewhat linearly. How about I just tell you what I've been seeing and you tell me which ones you've lived through." 

"How about you start making sense?" Despite that statement, you concede and start to listen, and while you do remember most of what he recounts, it's the ones that you don't that interest you the most. In one, he saw you looking at a screen with an bizarrely pale alien creature on it, like a troll, but with flat teeth, no horns, and his bright red blood color(?) on brazen display, literally as the color of his sleeves. In another (which he'd happened to get at the same time as his head injury), there was a purple blood with two juggling clubs stained with dried blood in his hands and three thin scars that ran diagonally along his face as his moirail, but said purpleblood was the mirror image of his attacker. The physical description sort of sounds like Gamzee, but the personality doesn't fit at all. And the vision you'd caught him having... well. He was (you were?) in a grey room full of computer monitors, and a seadweller male was killing everyone in there, which happened to include a jadeblooded girl with a chainsaw that the Cardinal claimed to be his 'culler' in this world, an heiress, and a goldblood that had challenged the seadweller to a direct duel... and lost. Almost everyone he describes is familiar, but you can't believe everything could go to hell that quickly. 

After that story, he trails off, and you both fall silent. The Cardinal's looking at you, and you're staring at the ground, still trying to absorb it all. He finally says something, concluding, "And it's all real, isn't it? I'm honestly not sure what's worse, thinking I'm crazy or knowing I'm not. I mean, it makes you think: are any of the others I've seen out there, too? How many of there are you out here on Beforus?" 

Before you can respond to that, someone taps you on the shoulder. You flinch and scramble to your feet, but as you turn around, you see Nepeta giggling there. You narrow your eyes and glance behind you, where your counterpart is being helped up by Twofaced, who's smiling in a way that gives you the impression that this was her idea. She puts an arm around his shoulders, smirking mischievously. "Heh, sorry to interrupt, but I had an idea. I mean, you were..." She hesitates, that catlike grin fading into something serious. "You were having one of your vision things, right?" 

"Yeah, and you know what would be great? If you didn't call them 'vision things'." 

"Mmhmm. Look, I know a guy that might know a little more about that kind of thing than I efur could. I was going to introduce the two of you anyway, but I thought with all the craziness, now'd be a good time." 

He looks over at you and Nepeta, and you shrug noncommittally. Turning back, he replies, "Sure, why not. Who is he?" 

"He's called the Sonarist, and he's part of the Mortality Census." 

"Wha- ...Why am I not surprised? Of course you have a friend on the Census. What's his deal?" 

"He knows his way around visions and voices, and, also like you, he basically hates efurryone. C'mon, you'll get along great!" 

He sighs, and glances behind him. "What about these two?" 

You can't help but interject at this. "'These two' can hear you. I mean, I can't speak for Nepeta, but I'd be fine with going. Just one question: what's the Mortality Census?" 

Twofaced's ear-to-ear grin has returned, wider than ever. "Don't worry, one of us'll explain on the way. Now, it's just along the path! Come on, let's go!" She brushes past her informed matesprit and makes her way towards the path with a distinctive bounce in her step, so set that even if you desired to, you really can't do anything but follow. 

_Meanwhile..._

_"...Wait, where are you going?"_

_"I intend to find your... son, was it?" The younger of the two jadebloods doesn't wait for confirmation. "Yes, I intend to find your son, and with him, I believe, the friend that I have lost as well. Your assistance isn't required, but it would be greatly appreciated. Care to join me?"_


	6. A1: The Sonarist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck yeah, first chapter of 2017! Aaaaaand it's a day late. Great start, me, ten out of ten. I wanted to get this chapter copyedited and such, and I started doing a little writing ahead. I think I have the next few chapters planned out a little better than this one, so stay tuned! ^.^

Twofaced leads the three of you along the path past the cave you were in earlier and deeper into the wood. Since she seems to have completely forgotten her promise to tell you more, and you obviously aren't getting anything from the Cardinal without asking, you decide to do just that: ask. "So...what is this 'Mortality Census', anyway?" 

He sighs. "Well, you know how a regular census tracks everyone that's living on a planet or in a country or whatever?"

"I guess." Censuses aren't that widespread under the Condesce, as far as you know. You don't get the impression from her style of leadership that she really gives a shit about her people. 

"Well, we have people who do the exact opposite of that. The Mortality Census tracks how and when everybody on Beforus dies, right down to the hour. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn't carry over to Alternia, actually. I mean, out of all things to recreate in your culture, why not the most morbid part of ours?" 

"Better question: why the fuck would anyone want to do that?" Or need to, for that matter. It might be just another cultural difference, but on Alternia, the planet where the blood of dead trolls makes up a large portion of the thriving paint industry, you can see why nobody would bother. 

"Hell if I know. As far as I'm concerned, nobody in their right mind does." 

Twofaced interrupts from in front, interjecting, "Come on, don't be so quick to judge! I know some perfectly nice guys on the Census! A little morbid, maybe a bit cynical, pessimistic, a tad antisocial, and jeez, I'm not selling this well, am I? Ah, well. Ought to be honest." 

"See what I mean? I'm not judgmental, I'm sane."

"Likely story, Mr. 'I See Dead Timelines'." 

That ends that argument rather quickly. You can hear him muttering under his breath, but he decides not to add anything aloud. The four of you walk in silence, and to be honest, it's not unwelcome. You're still absorbing everything, and you get the feeling that the others are as well. Whoever this 'Sonarist' is, you have the feeling he's going to raise more questions than answers, especially if he's been the recipient of a similar meeting to the one you and Nepeta had just... god, it hasn't even been two hours, has it? You swear, if things get any more convoluted, you're going to fly off the handle. 

You reach a very odd-looking point in the path. It leads straight into a the apex of a curved path that seems to go back towards your direction on either side. After a bit of a ways in each direction, it splits off into a crossroads, which consists of keeping going along the curved path or turning onto a straight path that keeps going the way you came. Between the straight paths is a small, black, one-story house, with two yellow-tinted windows and an all too familiar symbol emblazoned on the door in yellow. Twofaced turned back to the three of you, who exchange knowing glances. "We're here! ...Hey, what's with the looks?" 

The Cardinal averts his eyes, clearly unsure how to respond and/or explain. In the end, he opts to at least to try: "Well, I think I've seen that symbol before. It belonged to someone I saw in a couple of visions. Checks out, right?" 

He turns to you, and you simply add: "His name is Sollux Captor, in case you were wondering." 

"Well, what do you know?" Twofaced seems mildly intrigued, though you speculate that by this point, none of you could possibly be surprised by anything anymore. The four of you walk up to the door, which has a small black palm scanner next to it. Twofaced places her palm on the scanner, and after a moment, an automated voice rings out: [Welcome, MERCHANT TWOFACED. Three other unidentified individuals detected. Are they accompanying you?] 

"Yep. Going to let us in or what?" 

[Certainly.] The door opens into a disorganized room, with no light save for muted moonlight streaming in through the windows, the floor crisscrossed with wires of various colors. The first thing you hear is somebody swearing from behind a door on the opposite wall, then footsteps. A young man steps through the door, and by now, you're barely fazed by the fact that he's the mirror image of an older Sollux. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, and he manages to look even more vexed at the situation than the Cardinal did. Twofaced takes the opportunity to interject, "Your security system is shit, Captor. Thought you oughta know that before we carry on here." 

"Nice to see you, too. Of course I know that. That's not important. There's a bigger issue here right now: those two." He points at you and Nepeta. "I'm assuming those aren't your descendants. I mean, unless you and that ironblood there somehow-" 

Twofaced and the Cardinal speak in a deadpan unison: " _No._ " 

The Sonarist smirks. "I didn't think so. So," He looks you over, amusement quickly fading into a speculative scowl. "who are they? Wait, excuse me," he adds on an afterthought, finally acknowledging you directly. "Who are you? Did you come from the same place as my doppelgänger in the other room?" 

Of course Sollux would be here. On one hand, you do think it would be good for you to make sure that he doesn't think you're dead. Then again, he got you into this mess in the first place. You still want to see him; you're just not sure whether you want to have a friendly conversation or slap him. For now, you just raise the glaringly obvious question: "If you were so desperate for answers, why didn't you just ask him? I mean, if you want to know why we're here, he'd know a hell of a lot more than I would." 

"He's not giving me any straight answers. He gave me some cock-and-bull story about coming from a planet that I know for a fact doesn't exist on any star maps, then tried to say I messed with some program of his. He's in my workroom right now. Probably shouldn't have left him alone in there, in hindsight, but being some sort of alternate to myself, he should have some sort of competence with technology."

The four of you exchange knowing glances. Knowing the answer already, you still ask: "That planet wouldn't happen to be called 'Alternia', would it?" 

"I think so, yeah. What, are you going to try to convince me, too?" 

Twofaced looks like she's about to break out into a giggling fit. "You're...gonna want to sit down for this." 

He looks like he's going to say something, but before he can even open his mouth, a sharp yell sounds from beyond the doorway. The Sonarist starts, taking a step back towards the hallway, but he looks more annoyed than worried about a potential assailant. "Ah, shit. I'll, well, I'll be right back, need to deal with... whatever that was." 

He quickly takes his leave, swearing under his breath all the while and slamming the door behind him. After a few moments, you hear muffled yelling from behind the wall to your left. Awkwardness mixes with concern to make a thoroughly uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. While Twofaced and the Cardinal start a quiet conversation, and Nepeta examines the wires, you find yourself drifting towards the wall and listening in on the apparent altercation. The wall is thick and possibly blocked by something on the other side, so you can only hear bits and pieces. Whatever this quarrel, presumably between the two Captors, is about, it sounds...disturbing. 

"...I really don't understand...if you would just..." "...can't _believe_...FUCKING TORTURE MACHINE..." "Oh my god...the other room..." 

You note that the other three have been distracted from their preoccupations, probably having heard the torture machine comment. Oh, who are you kidding; everyone within a thirty mile radius heard that. The Cardinal, having been looking progressively more perturbed throughout the entire exchange, finally made his way towards the door, seemingly concluding his conversation with, "Right, there is no way in hell that was 'innocent'!" You see his hand gripping the handle of one of the sickles hanging off of his belt. 

"Come on, there's got to be some sort of misunderstanding here!" Twofaced trails nervously, trying in vain to keep him from doing anything rash. "I mean, I know the Sonarist. He's grumpy, sure, but he doesn't own a torture device! That's ridiculous!" Personally, you're with the Cardinal. Growing up in a place where you can't walk five feet without seeing a weapon does that to someone. 

You walk up by his side as you exit into the hallway, with Nepeta joining you on his other side and Twofaced still slightly behind, still making halfhearted attempts to stop you from barging in on what would most likely be the Sonarist's workroom, which you soon do. The four of you walk in on them still yelling at each other, but Sollux freezes as soon as he sees you. "...Kk? What are you doing here?" He shakes his head, then moves on, talking in his usual fast-paced, sardonic way. "You know what? Nevermind. That was a stupid question. Better one: Is it fucking insane to keep one of these in your house and pretend it's perfectly fine, or what?" 

He steps aside, and you have to admit, he's not half-wrong. You remember seeing one, albeit not in person, when you were around two and a half sweeps old and you asked your lusus if he could find you something to read because it was raining and you didn't own a computer yet. He brought you back a bunch of old career manuals that you couldn't even hope to understand for another three sweeps. (Fucking dammit, Crabdad. You wonder how he's doing, actually...) You remember seeing a diagram of one of these things when you were flipping through and just looking at the pictures, and the next thing you remember is throwing the godforsaken book out the window into the rain. 

It looks like a psychic rerouter, an old, downright archaic model, but in good shape. For all you know, whenever you are, this is state of the art. You've never seen one in person, but you know what it does: force the troll linked in to have an excruciating psionic overload, than siphon the excess energy into whatever computer or motor system the thing is channeling. Over, and over, and over, until the lowblood eventually dies of old age/overexertion. You and Nepeta look over at each other, horrified, but your older selves aren't so shocked. In fact, they look downright entertained. It's hardly a comfort to Sollux, who mutters something about all of you being out of your minds. 

The aversion is only met with confusion. The Sonarist, somewhere between amusement and bemusement, says, "I really don't know what the problem is here. It's a psychic channeller, big deal. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone on the Census that doesn't have one." 

“Pretty sure you just answered your own...wait, what?” You’ve never heard of a channeller before, and judging by his reaction, neither has Sollux. “Channeller? Oh, I see, just another name for a rerouter. You know, renaming it doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“I...how...wha-” The Sonarist rolls his eyes, or, at least, he looks like he is. With the heavy red and blue tint of his eyes, you have some difficulty seeing his pupils. “You know what? How about we all just get our shit together, and one of you tries to tell me what the hell’s going on? You know, because apparently I don’t know anything anymore.”

Visibly annoyed by his lack of information, he gestures for you to follow him as he brushes past you and walks out the door, into the dark hallway. When the group follows, this time, it’s you and Sollux that are lagging behind. There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, then, “...Kk?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m pretty glad that you’re not dead, and that you aren’t flipping out on me or whatever like you usually do.” 

“Honestly, I probably should be. How do you even screw up a program this badly?”

“That’s the thing; I didn’t. I still don’t think that was what the program was supposed to do, but Aa and I didn’t mess with it, either. You saw what was going on there. I wasn’t doing that, I swear.” 

“Wait, so you think somebody tampered with the game code?” 

"Obviously." He adjusts his glasses, and you can't tell whether it was because they actually needed it or if it's just for dramatic emphasis. "The _actual_ question here is who.”


	7. A2: Wake Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this was a note I hoped I wouldn't have to write. With the advent of plot actually happening, there is also the advent of a new schedule, due to both the aforementioned plot happening and the fact that my second semester is incredibly packed. I'm still going to try to update every 7-8 days, but I'm honestly not sure how often I'll be able to reach that goal. Consider this a little bit of a mini-hiatus in preparation for that, and here's to hoping I'm a little more adjusted the next few weeks. Thanks for the patience!

>Kankri: Wake up. 

You are already awake, and you're not planning on falling asleep anytime soon. You're the one keeping watch today, an arduous task that involves staying awake from sunrise to sunset, forcing your eyelids apart and looking for anyone that might try to sneak up on your camp and kill you in your sleep. However, you don't mind, and that's for four reasons:  
1) Although the two of you are working in shifts, you're not going to make Jhonen stay awake any longer than he has to, seeing as he's the only one with a weapon (the two of you found a hammer in his syllabus),  
2) The constant nightmares make sleep something that's not worth having anyway,  
3) The pain from what is apparently a broken arm makes for another barrier to falling asleep in the first place,  
and 4) When you didn't have anyone keeping watch, you awakened to someone from your dancestor's neighborhood that had snuck up on your camp and was trying to kill you in your sleep. 

Needless to say, you've been far more diligent after that incident. As you and your traveling mate had quickly realized, your three assailants aren't the only ones on Alternia harboring blood prejudice. In fact, just about all of Alternia adheres to a strict hemocaste system, to the point where you had to take off the sweater Porrim made for you and replace it with a T-shirt that has your hideous symbol printed on it in grey for fear of getting killed. Luckily, you're in a sparsely populated area at the moment, so you can be a little off guard...you think. You wouldn't want to say this to Aranea's face, but you'll admit that her apparent decision has been more of a curse than a blessing. 

Looking down, it dawns on you that you really ought to have the hammer with you while keeping watch. With the state of your arm and minimal fighting experience, any chance encounter that turns to an altercation won't likely go your way. You make plans to ask about this when Jhonen wakes up, but for now...it couldn't terribly hurt to take it just in case and explain it in the evening, could it?

Slowly, and with great attention towards your surroundings, you leave the entrance and make your way towards Jhonen, who's sleeping soundly and peacefully, which is odd, considering the mutual nightmares you had on your first day that had continued for you into the second. Not that you're complaining that your friend is getting a peaceful night's sleep. He's sleeping in the shade of a tree, hammer by his side, in a curled position not quite on his back so as to not accidentally sleep on his horns, which are on the sides of his head, curling around with the tips near his ears. He's fidgeting a little bit, but not much. 

As you grab the handle of the hammer, however, that changes. You notice that he's muttering something in his sleep, softly at first, but soon loud enough to sound like a normal conversation. You've heard sleep-talkers before, of course. You'd noted that Meulin had a particular problem with it. However, there's one difference between that and this: Meulin never spoke in another language. 

You're not sure why you're so certain it's a foreign tongue as opposed to simple babble, but you have an unexplainable, underlying certainty that that's the case. The sounds are longer and less harsh than Beforan (or Imperial Standard Dialect, as it is for whatever reason called on Alternia). It's a pleasant sounding language, like nothing you've ever heard or read about before. Presuming, of course, that it isn't just unintelligible murmuring. You simply allow yourself a moment to sit there and listen, before realizing that you really ought to be paying more attention to your surroundings. Picking up the hammer, which feels odd to hold in your non-dominant hand, you stand up to walk back to your post. 

As you sit down at your vantage point, he keeps talking for another couple of minutes, pausing and starting again as if he's carrying on a conversation with someone unseen. Then, without warning, he stops. You dismiss it at first, thinking that he had simply descended into a dreamless sleep, but then it starts again, this time quick and agitated. When you turn to see what's going on, he's shifted positions, curled up into an almost defensive position. His breaths are bordering on sobs, and the soft tones of the language he's speaking are gone, devolving into panicked cries. All notions of standing guard forgotten, you move closer to him, trying in vain to get his attention. After about a minute, a painfully slow sixty seconds of hesitant helplessness, the cries slowly decrease to nothing. With a final sigh in your own language of, "This isn't right...", he finally manages to enter the realm of consciousness. Blinking in the (fortunately) heavily filtered sunlight, he sits up and drowsily looks you in the eye. "...Kankri? That's you, right? Hold on..." He takes his glasses out of his sylladex and put them on. "Yeah, it's you. Something wrong?" 

Seriously? "You were talking in your sleep. No, scratch that, I don't think that quite addresses the gravity of whatever just happened. You started talking in your sleep in what I'm fairly certain was a foreign language, then started _screaming_ in said language before waking up. Is that normal for you, or is this a new development during our travels?" 

Jhonen shrugs. "Hell if I know. I mean, I don't remember anybody talking to me about that before you, and there really isn't any way I would be able to tell other than that, is there? Plus, I'm pretty sure this is the only language I know. Although..." He trails off, looking like he's concentrating on something. 

"Although what?" 

"I dunno. It'll probably sound really dumb out loud, but the dream I just had felt different than the one two nights ago. It was clearer, more lucid, less like a dream and more like...more like..." 

"A memory?" 

"Yeah, like a memory." Likely due to having just woken up, it takes a second before the significance of that hits him. "Wait, was I remembering something?" His tone is filled with doubt, but you can tell he's excited at the prospect. "Hold on, I just need to remember what the dream was about...let's see...come on, think! It was about...dammit!" His face falls, and while he never says it aloud, it's clear what happened. 

"Did you forget what you were dreaming about?" 

He nods and shrugs his shoulders, trying to pass it off like it's just an inconvenience to him. Seeing his crestfallen expression, you regret getting his hopes up. Nevertheless, he seems to recover quickly, or at least convince himself that he has. "You know, it probably wasn't a memory, anyway. Is that even how that works? I mean, you're the expert on that sort of thing." 

It's a good point, actually. "Probably not, now that I think about it. I never did much research into this particular type of problem."

"See? This isn't that big a deal. Even though I'm pretty sure I'm not going back to sleep anytime soon... How many hours until sunrise, again?"

"Two or three, at least." 

Jhonen sighs, then smiles slightly. "How about you just keep telling me about how you got here again? Where were we on that, anyway?" 

"Oh. Er, sure why not? Good idea!" The prospect of another ~~monologue~~ conversation with Jhonen almost immediately takes your mind off of the events of the past few minutes. He... You'll admit, he actually does know how to carry on a conversation with you, keeping you from going off on tangents or anything of that sort. He doesn't manage to remember anything, but you can see that he's genuinely interested in Beforus, though he gets an odd look when you start talking about SGRUB. When you ask him about it, however, he claims it's nothing, simply an odd train of thought. 

The two of you talk until dusk, when it's safe to go out. Then, it lapses into an awkward silence, because, you know, neither of you actually know where you're going or what you're doing. In hindsight, simply leaving the neighborhood you'd awakened in and traveling out into the unknown might have been a bad spur-of-the-moment instinct to follow. 

After a couple hours, you develop a throbbing headache, something that at first you presume is the cost of your lack of sleep. As the sensation, somewhat like the pounding of a hammer on the inside of your skull, other problems start to develop as well: a shiver uncharacteristic of a warmer night like this, a broken and jumbled train of thought that leaves you unfocused and borderline paranoid, and blurry, shifting vision. It gets to the point where you can't blame it on simple fatigue anymore, but you keep going, insisting to Jhonen that you're fine as it becomes increasingly clear that you most certainly aren't. 

It's around midnight when, finally, you're on the verge of collapse, an admirable amount of time in your opinion. You've convinced your travelling partner to lead the way, so he only starts paying attention when it's too late, after you finally trip over your own feet and land on worn, rocky, dirty- 

-hard, shoddily paved ground. Is something different here? You're on your hands and knees, having a staring contest with the ground and trying to make the nausea go away. It's cold, and the fact that you're barely wearing anything besides a cloak and leggings isn't helping. Why aren't you wearing anything substantial? This...this is normal, isn't it? Of course it is. You're too disoriented to determine why or how yet, but this is normal.

A voice comes from above you, a light, high-pitched, female voice. "You alright, dear? Need a hand?" You look up at a long-haired woman with horns like cat ears and a black jumpsuit that almost blends in with her skin, the only splashes of color being her olive eyes, currently filled with concern directed towards you, and the patterns that she's designed around her sign on the jumpsuit. You fail to place her for a second, but then it clicks, all of it. How could you forget? 

You let your beloved Disciple help you off the ground. She still looks worried, however, as she asks, "Are you okay? You looked like you'd seen a ghost for a moment there." 

"No, no, I'm doing well, honestly," you insist, brushing a little bit of dirt off of your cape. 

"I know travelling can be a bit strenuous," a third voice interjects, "but honestly, you've been like this to some degree our entire trip." This voice is far more easily placed: _Mom._

"Have I?" You turn around to face her, a rainbow drinker currently hiding her bioluminescence, softly smiling at you. By her side is a younger goldblood, a powerful psionic (or Ψiioniic, as he's chosen to title himself) that joined your small following only recently, and with whom you quickly forged a strong bond. "Well, we're close, anyway. It wouldn't be any use to stop now." 

"Are you sure? You know, it would be pretty bad for all of us if you got there, started one of your speeches or whatever, then passed out on the stage." It's the Ψiioniic speaking this time, displaying his usual penchant for sardonicism. 

"Psi, don't be ridiculous. Look, I can see the place from here!" You gesture, and, sure enough, what looks like a settlement can be seen through the light layer of fog cast over your current location. 

"If you say so, darling, then we ought to get going. Shall we?" The Disciple takes her arm in yours, and though something about it seems somewhat off, you don't question it. You're not sure why you feel so apprehensive. Everything is fine, right? The two of you lead the way, making small talk, with Mom and the Ψiioniic following behind. You're starting to feel better as you step into the fog, save for an odd clenching feeling in your stomach that feels like someone is grabbing you from behind. But you're sure that's probably nothing. 

In what feels like a far shorter time than it most likely was, you make it to your destination. You're so absorbed in conversation with your matesprit that you don't even notice at first, and she does before you. "But even when I gave him the pelt, he _still_ says no, because apparently it was too..." Her voice dies in her throat, turning into a small gasp as she stares straight ahead at your destination.

"Hmm? Well, then, now who looks like she's seen a...seen a...ghost..." As you turn around, your display of self-satisfaction is interrupted by a view of the village...or, rather, what's left of it. About half of it looks like it had been set on fire, and where the buildings aren't charred, there's low-spectrum blood everywhere, reds and yellows and oranges smeared on the streets. However, there's only one body in plain sight, and seeing...his body? Her? Their? It's burned and beaten beyond recognition, but you can see the blood color, and it makes you understand everything. It's bright mint green, off-spectrum if you've ever seen it. 

You can feel your eyes stinging as you walk up to her (because upon closer examination, the corpse seems vaguely feminine), the clenching feeling giving way to horrid nausea, because this what happens if you get caught, this is what happens to those like you, this is what happens if you get caught. It isn't right, this just can't be how things have to be! In that moment, you've never felt so...what's the word...small? 

Yes, you do feel smaller. Not just in the sense of utter insignificance, either, but physically smaller, not by much, but enough that you notice right away. You turn back to your partners, ready to ask if they noticed a change, but you immediately notice that they have some changes of their own to worry about: they look no older than nine sweeps, and their eyes have gone blank white, no pupils or anything of the sort. Still, they seem oddly nonchalant, especially in comparison to you, because you, quite frankly, feel like you're losing your mind. Two different realities are battling at the back of your mind, two different names and identities as you look from person to person: Psi or Mituna, the Dolorosa or Porrim, your dear, sweet, precious Disciple or Meulin? Finally, you manage to choke something coherent out, "Is this- what is this?!" 

~~Psi~~ ~~Mituna~~ the Captor looks you over with a blank expression. His only words are cryptic at best and nonsensical at worst: “These are the consequences, Kankri.” 

Just about then, those blank eyes widen with fear, and a split second later, fuschia tendrils sprout from the ground and wrap themselves around his ankles. They continue to spread, with others binding his hands in front of him, yet he’s completely silent the entire time, as if he knew this was coming, and had made no plans to stop it. Eventually, he's completely enveloped, save for the front of his torso and most of his face. The tendrils drag him to his knees, bent forward with his arms tethered together and outstretched above his head, and he simply lies there without a struggle, immediately resigning to his fate. 

No matter what's going on, you can't help but cry out with horror at the display. "Psi!” You look back behind you, but the way is obscured by a layer of fog that seems to stop at your feet. You’re frozen, rooted in place, only able to turn around at a scream behind you. When you do so, Porrim (as you’re finding yourself leaning more towards proper names rather than titles at this point) prone on the ground, a gash surrounded by dark green blood in her back and a dark figure clad in noble regalia standing above her holding what looks to be zome sort of high-tech harpoon gun. He looks up at you, once again with blank eyes, face contorted into something that's half horror and half devoid of any emotion at all. You barely get a good look at him before he disappears without a trace, leaving only a sinking feeling of familiarity. 

Only one left now. You finally let your eyes rest on Meulin, and she’s doing the same. Terror is written on her face, but for whatever reason, it all seems to be directed at you. She finally turns and flees, and the first thing you feel is relief that at least one of you made it out scot-free from this nightmare. The second is awareness of something liquid running down your face, then your arms, chest, and legs, and when you look down, all you see is river after river of bright red streaming downwards, simultaneously entrancing and horrifying. It feels odd, not like what you thought bleeding out would feel like, but more like trying to wake up from a dream. In fact, you start to get the impression that this has all just been some twisted nightmare, albeit with a little more meaning than that. 

It's with that revelation that you snap out of your daze, finding yourself staring at slightly more familiar terrain. There's something stinging your eyes and making your vision swim; you're crying, and it feels like you have been for a while. The place where the highbloods fractured your arm is the sorest it's been since its was first broken. You hear the tail end of Jhonen trying to talk to you, an endeavor that seems more out of desperation than desire: "-worried about you, so please, snap out of it!" He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "You can't hear me, can you?" When you turn around, he looks you dead in the eye, the most serious you've ever seen him. Then, he lights up, though even you can tell that he's still not quite calm. "Holy shit, you're awake." 

You're yet again at a loss for words. It seems to be happening more and more often with Jhonen around. Then again, there have been a lot of firsts since you got here. "Er, have I not been for a while?"

Wow, that sounded stupid. Jhonen doesn't seem to notice or care, however. "Probably for about twenty minutes. Then again, that's twenty minutes of your eyes going bright red, you running off and talking to nobody, and me not having a clue what's going on. I mean, none of that you? I have a really hard time believing that none of this was just some elaborate joke or something. I mean, you really didn't strike me as the type, but if it was, your Prankster's Gambit is probably through the roof by this point, and you really weren't messing around, were you?" 

You shake your head, really not in the mood to get into detail right now. "I don't remember a thing, honestly, besides whatever I was, well...it was like a dream, but far, far more realistic."

"I know the feeling, I guess. Except for that last part. What, were you having prophetic visions or something?"

"I certainly hope not!" you reply. When you offer no other particulars, there's a moment of silence. Then, this: 

"What's happening to us?"

He says it barely audibly, eyes focused aside. It's not something meant to be answered, not something that can be answered, and you both know it. So the question lingers between the two of you like the fog in your nightmares, enveloping you in silence. 

He makes the first move, afterwards continuing forward and around you in a silent invitation to move on. For a moment, his hand accidentally brushes your wrist. You immediately stiffen, instinctively wanting to pull it away, get annoyed, do something, but nothing happens. Instead, you fall into step by his side, and together you walk in silence. At one point, you feel something, and look down to see his arm around yours, but you don't feel yourself pulling away. There's nothing flushed about it, but there's still something quite different about his way of doing things that you've never seen among any of your friends, not even Porrim, Latula, or Cronus. What's happening to you, indeed.


	8. A2: The Prisoners

>??????: Wake up. 

Your name is Meulin Leijon, and as you start to stir to the sound of rustling in the corner, you immediately become aware that something is certainly not right. The floor is soft, possibly even carpeted, in stark contrast to the cave floor you were just on. Plus, you were alone...right? 

Wait. No, you most certainly were not alone before you woke up here. 

With a hiss, you scramble into a crouching position and look around at the dark room. It looks like it's been repurposed as a holding cell, with various pieces of furniture crammed into a corner on your side of the room. Other than that, it's completely unfurnished, save for what looks like a crumpled up poster on the floor. As your eyes adjust, you realize that, indeed, you aren't alone. There's someone in the corner, instantly distinguishable, but certainly not bad company. His outfit - a bright red shirt covered by a black bullet vest with his symbol in the center - and his hair - spiky, with red at the tips - are the most colorful things that you've seen in this place that most likely aren't blood. However, the clearest distinguishable feature was the pair of delicate bronze-tinted wings on his back, which move slightly as he looks over at you. You get the feeling that there's something off, but you can't yet quite discern what it is. You pause for a moment, then finally try to confirm his identity: "Rufioh?" 

There's a moment of silence (well, every moment is a moment of silence for you), and then his eyes widen, as if he's just remembered who he's trying to talk to. He turns towards you with a sheepish grin, so you can clearly see his face, then repeats his statement: "Hey, doll. Glad to see you're awake. You're not hurt, right?" 

"No, furtunately." You see him glance towards the door, as if nervous about whatever's on the other side. "Do you know what's going on? Where are we?"

He gives a half-hearted shrug of one shoulder. "No clue. I mean, if I could tell you, I probably wouldn't be here right now, y'know?"

"I guess not. How long have you been here, anyway?" 

"Not that long. A few days, maybe? Yeah, five or six days, that sounds about right. He stands up, and you notice that he has a bandage stained with bronze around his knee. When he comes towards you, he walks with a slight limp as well. However, as you stand up to look him in the eye, the leg injury becomes a secondary concern. 

"Oh my god, Rufioh, your wing! I-it's-" 

"I know, I know." He instantly becomes far more morose as he looks down at the tear in his left wing, wide and jagged, as if someone had haphazardly tried to separate the upper and lower part, but quit halfway through. "Let me guess who got you: three highbloods, right? Two girls, one boy, and one of the girls was a seadweller?" When you nod, he adds, "The seadweller's one hell of a crossbow shot. Hit me right in the wing, then, once I was on the ground..." He made his hand into a fist and mimed a pulling motion. "Long story short, one of the others knocked me out, and the next thing I remember is being here. No splint or anything." 

"Can you...you can still fly, right?" 

"Not last I checked." He sighs, brushing away the hand you'd placed on his shoulder. "Damn, we never are prepared whenever anything serious happens, are we? Any of us." 

"I don't know about that. I mean, we didn't handle SBURB very well, but we've been getting through efurrything in the dream bubbles ok, right?" 

"That's the problem, doll. Nothing ever happens in the dream bubbles, just what we did when we were alive on loop. These two get together, there'll be a hate romance here and there, but other than that, we just go through the same memories over and over. There's really nothing to be 'gotten through'."

You're starting to get quite uncomfortable with this line of conversation. "I just...well..." 

Seeing your discomfort, he quickly tries to change the subject. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Being in here for this long just- just made me think in a couple ways. It's really not-" He stops suddenly, and his eyes widen. He starts to back away from you, muttering almost too quickly to understand, "Somebody's coming here. I don't know who it is, but just in case, we ought to pretend to be asleep." The panic on his face combined with his injuries compel you to comply, laying down on the floor, but not quite closing your eyes. No sense in being deprived of two senses at once if there's someone dangerous around. 

A few seconds later, three people walk into your line of sight, all once again people you recognize. There are two of them, Damara Megido and Aranea Serket, that you never knew very well. You remember matchmaking Aranea a few times, but Damara...oh, that's where you remember her. Completely ill-suited for just about any ship. You even tried hatedating her yourself for a sweep or two, but it never worked out. However, the third person is someone you know better than anyone: none other than your ex-matesprit, Kurloz Makara. Barely restraining your elation at seeing him, you still find the self-control to keep pretending to be asleep, just in case. Your relief, however, starts to fade as you begin to pay attention to the words being spoken by Aranea.

"-barbaric, absolutely barbaric! What were you thinking?!" 

Kurloz starts signing something, but he's not saying what you'd hoped he would, or anything within character, for that matter. _They would have died out there. You of all people should know that they would. You see the injuries, don't you? The people who made them were holding back. If we didn't protect them, we'd have a far bigger problem on our hands._ It's an odd choice of words, and one that unsettles you, especially considering where you are and who it's coming from. 

"I understand that, of course I do, but there are better solutions than kidnapping! At the very least, you could have consulted one of us. Do your...your brutes even know that we exist?!"

_No, but it doesn't matter. The point is that they won't be dead before sunrise. As long as the others are out there, we can't be sure._

Damara finally speaks up, and while you can't tell what she's saying, you get the sinking feeling that it's not in your favor. "彼女は正しい。" 

Aranea sighs in relief. "Thank you. Finally, someone else thinking things through around here!" 

"彼らが死ぬようにしなさい。彼らは忘れてしまった痛みを感じるはずです。それが私たちの意図ですね。"

"What?! No! You've got it all wrong, both of you! This is our chance to rebuild, to consolidate a broken world and unite ourselves again! We aren't just here to make the exact same mistakes that got us in the bubbles in the first place!" 

"これらの間違いは避けられませんでした。私たちが何をしていても、私たちの数とすべての創造物は壊れて失敗するでしょう。本当の解決策はすべてを灰に戻すことです。"

During Damara's monologue, Kurloz started signing more agitatedly: _Are you even listening to yourselves? One of you is naive in every conceivable way, and the other is a nihilistic sociopath. Is there no in-between? I don't know how I ever thought I could ever make myself heard over the sounds of your ravings._ He paused a moment before adding, _I did not intend to make a pun there._

Damara leans over to Aranea, stage-whispering, "あなたは彼の愚かなシンボルを理解していますか?" 

_Oh, you're one to talk. Here, tell me if you understand this one, will you?_

He promptly flips her off, much to Aranea's dismay and Damara's chagrin. The former puts herself between the other two. "Come on, you two! We are never going to get anything done if you two cannot resolve your petty differences! We don't have time-"

Damara cuts her off with a harsh glare before continuing to goad the highblood. "私たちは十分な時間以上を持っています。 私はいつも彼女がなぜあなたを愛しているのかを知りたかった。彼女はあなたが彼女にしたことのためにあなたを憎むべきです。" She strokes Rufioh's wing, causing him to flinch slightly. With a scornful smile, she continues, "見かける ? あなたの秘密は何ですか?" You still can't understand Damara, but Kurloz's stony glare says more than enough. It's the expression he gets whenever anyone bring up your last night together as a couple, also known as your last night of hearing.

_Perhaps it's sanity, you self-serving little- _ Kurloz's next few signs are rapid-fire and indignant. You catch very little from your position on the floor, but you do get words like _cheater_ , _harlot_ , and _at least I can keep a matesprit faithful for more than half a sweep you psychotic hypocrite_. You can only watch as Damara's face steadily turns darker and darker shades of maroon, but when you see her pulling out one of her needles about a minute into his tirade, you finally can't take it anymore, sitting up straight to try and grab his attention. "Purrloz, wait, I really don't think-"

Revealing yourself, however, becomes the least of your problems when your dissuasion is interrupted by Kurloz being pushed aside and pinned to the wall opposite the door by an unseen force. Your attention shifts to Damara, who has one hand clenching her needle with an iron grip and the other outstretched towards Kurloz. She turned, lowering her arm, and walked towards him, ignoring Aranea's pleas for her to stop. She only halts a few steps away at the sound of shuffling on the far wall away from you. She turns around, and her eyes land on Rufioh, who's sitting up. "何?" she asks, tone laced with mockery. "私を止めようとしていますか?" 

"Damara, please, I know what you're going to do, and it isn't worth it. Why don't you just...put him down, and then we can all forget any of this ever happened. For me, alright, doll?" 

She stares for a second, then, turning back and letting the point of her needle rest at the base of Kurloz's throat, sneers, "私が拒否すれば、あなたは何をしますか？ 後ろに隠れる野良動物を召喚する?" 

"I-"

"とにかく、私はあなたの考えを知っています。あなたは間違っている。それは私の目標を進めるものではなく、単に無味です。私はその原油だと思いますか?"She moves the needle from his throat and points it at his mouth. "もちろん、それは彼が苦しんでいるのを見たくないというわけではありません。" 

Too late, you and the others realize what she intends. With two quick motions, the stitches are broken, and with it, she makes two long, thin cuts at either side of his face. What you can't hear, your mind fills in: a horrible snapping sound, followed by a sharp, pained intake of breath, the first vocalization he's made in sweeps. Finally, she lets him drop, stepping back as he falls to the floor. You sprint over to him, ignoring everything else, and kneel by his side. His eyes won't even meet yours, and he ignores every inquiry of yours. You half-expect him to get up, to join the argument blooming between the three remaining standing, to do something, but he's still in shock, tracing where the stitches used to seal his mouth shut. However, the scratches on his face tell a different story, curving upwards into a dissonant smile. 

Leaning your head on his shoulder as a last resort to comfort him, you try to keep yourself from staring, to look away from his face and back to the others, but all you can focus on is the purple blood dripping from the needles onto the floor. The swimming and blurring of your vision makes it impossible to understand what anyone is trying to say, not that you much feel like trying. 

You close your eyes, but not a half a minute later, you're jostled from your small moment of reprieve by Kurloz standing straight up and knocking you to the floor. You sit up, halfway between alarmed and indignant, to see what he's staring at. Damara's hand is outstretched, and Aranea takes the needle from her without a struggle. She places a hand on Damara's shoulder, starts talking again, and after a few seconds, the world goes blurry again. This time, however, you aren't crying.

~♈ ~  


"とにかく、私はあなたの考えを知っています。あなたは間違っている。それは私の目標を進めるものではなく、単に無味です..." Damara trails off, letting the needle drop from her hand. She steps back with a livid glare, and Kurloz is unceremoniously dropped to the floor. You glance over at him and feel a sharp sense of relief when you see that he's alright, as well as an odd sense of déjà vu. Damara, however, does not share the sentiment. "あなたは何をしていると思いますか？" she harshly asks, looking behind her. 

Aranea has a hand to her forehead, and looks to be concentrating on something as she speaks. "Simply pulling a reverse of what you would do during our session. I'm setting right what once went terribly wrong. I'm sure you'll both agree it had to be done, right?" Slowly, she breaks her focus, but Damara doesn't make any moves to do anything, simply putting away her needle and glaring darkly at the cobaltblood, who has a smug smile on her face. “There we go. Isn’t that an improvement?” 

"あなたはどちらも愚かです。私はあなたを必要としません。あなたは単に苦しみ、残りのように死ぬでしょう。私が必要ならば、私は自分でやるだろう。" 

_Well, what are you waiting for?_ Kurloz is starting to stand, eyes narrowed and with a pair of juggling clubs wrapped in barbed wire drawn. _Get out, and, if you even still care, if you ever did care, I’ll be dealing with these two on my own._

Aranea starts to protest, taking a step forward. “You can’t just-” 

_I most certainly can, and I most certainly will. Now get. The hell. **OUT!** _

Damara doesn’t hesitate, pushing past Aranea and out the door without a farewell or even a rude gesture to accompany her departure. Aranea doesn’t linger much longer, with her parting words being, "If you change your mind, contact me. Otherwise, I'll be warning the others." 

After that, it's just you, Kurloz, and Rufioh. There's a moment where nobody speaks, and the first person to interrupt the silence is you. "Purrloz, aren't you going to let us go?" 

He looks like an antlerbeast in headlights when you ask him, but he hastily recovers. _You'll be safer in here. I'm just trying to-_ He pauses, as if he's trying to explain a difficult concept to a child or, in a more disturbing train of thought, to hide something. _Rufioh, you know how dangerous this world can be, right?_

It takes him a moment, but Rufioh finally manages to translate and realizes he's being addressed. "...Sorry, but I think I'm with Meulin on this one. This is seriously messed up, gotta be honest. Plus, the only ones here that actually tried to hurt me were the ones that brought me here, and they were yours, right?" 

Kurloz nods, seeming to understand, and starts to walk over to you. He has an indecipherable expression as he gets on one knee and looks you in the eye. _Just trust me, alright? Everything's going to be fine._

It must just be your imagination, but you swear you hear the sentiment repeated in his voice echoing in your head. You repeat the sentiment, though you aren't finding yourself believing it just yet. "Everything's going to be fine." 

_You know I'd never hurt you on purpose, right?_ Ok, that definitely isn't in your imagination. You hear his voice clear as day echoing in your mind, something that should really be a cause for concern, yet as you look into his eyes and nod, you don't care one bit. You know you should, but your head feels like it's filled with feathers instead of any instrument of rational thought. You start to feel quite relaxed as you keep your gaze locked onto his. It must be just you, but when you blink, you swear you see his eyes flash bright purple. 

~♑ ~ 

Your coming-to process is far faster this time around, or at least, you think it is. You know where you are, and, to an extent, how you got here. What you don't remember is passing out, and your head's too foggy for any attempt to be made at the present moment. Rufioh's sitting close by,looking intently and nervously at you like you're a ticking time bomb about to go off at any moment. Sitting up, you ask, "Is something the matter?" 

He starts at the sound of your voice, looking quickly towards the door, but when nothing happens, he replies, "I should really be asking you that question, doll." He allows himself a rueful smile. "Guess I'm not the only one with some matesprit issues, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" You don't have a matesprit, and you haven't seen Kurloz since you got here.

"Wait, you mean you don't remember any of that?" Any trace of humor fades as fast as it came, and in its place is a mix of confusion and paranoia.

"Any of what?" 

"The last half an hour of crazy. Damara, Aranea, Kurloz, whatever crazy voodoo shit he was pulling with-" Some sort of understanding dawns on him, an understanding you still aren't quite feeling privy to, nor are you sure that you want to, given how nervous he's started to look. He looks like he wants to say a million things, but instead, he simply finishes, "I'll tell you about it later, alright? Give you some time to clear your head." 

"Right..." You don't get the impression that he expects you to 'clear your head' anytime soon. He's lying on his back now, wings out behind him, staring at the ceiling. You, meanwhile, are still quite confused, but you suppose you can't blame him for not wanting to explain just after you came to. He's holding back information, you know he is, but you're sure he knows what he's doing, right? You're not sure what he meant when he mentioned those names, though, especially Kurloz. He's been so nice to you, even after you broke up. So why'd Rufioh seem so afraid when he said that name?

Ugh, your head's starting to pound just by thinking about it. Perhaps it would just be better if you put it out of your mind... 

_Around that time_

-.. --- / -. --- - / .- -... .- -. -.. --- -. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -.-. ..- .-. .-. . -. - / - .- .-. --. . - --..-- / -... ..- - / -.-- --- ..- / .... .- ...- . / - .-- --- / -. . .-- / --- -. . ... / - --- / .-.. --- --- -.- / ..-. --- .-. .-.-.- / .-. ..- ... - -... .-.. --- --- -.. / .- -. -.. / -.-. --- -... .- .-.. - -... .-.. --- --- -.. / --. .. .-. .-.. ... .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- / .... .- ...- . / - .... . / ... .- -- . / - . .-.. .-.. ... / .- ... / - .... . / --- - .... . .-. ... ---... / -. .. -. . / ... .-- . . .--. ... / --- .-.. -.. / .-- .. - .... / -.-. --- .-.. --- .-. ..-. ..- .-.. / -.-. .-.. --- - .... . ... / .- -. -.. / -... .-.. .- -. -.- / . -.-- . ... .-.-.- / - .... . .. .-. / -- ..- - .- - .. --- -. ... / -.. --- -. .----. - / -- .- - - . .-. .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- .-.. .-.. --- .-- . -.. / - --- / -.- .. .-.. .-.. .-.-.- 

_The message cut off with a click, not giving the three recipients a chance to respond. No response was needed. The one holding the device, who happened to be the only male, couldn't hide his grin. "Well, you heard him, didn't you? C'mon, girls, let's show these two what we're REALLY made of, shall we?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if Google Translate screws up any of Damara's dialogue. I think I got it to say what I wanted, but it seriously gets nothing right. Ever. ^~^


End file.
